


Surcease of Sorrow

by Yamx



Series: Those We Love the Best [10]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Backstory: Jack Harkness, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has another nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surcease of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [hurt/comfort bingo](http://betterwiththree.livejournal.com>Betterwiththree</A> <a href=). The prompt was _nightmare_. With thanks to Canaan for betaing.

_The boy was running, running faster than he ever had in his life. His blood was rushing in his ears, so loudly that he couldn't hear the screams of the other people running alongside him, couldn't hear the frantic beating of his own heart. Only the bomb blasts pierced the din. He heard each one, felt it in the tremors of the sand underneath his feet._

 _His breath came in gasps. He would not be able to run for much longer. He needed to find a safe place, a place to hide, somewhere the pilots of the low-flying gliders would not be able to spot them._

 _There! A dugout under the roots of a lone, crippled tree. He dove in, jerking his hand to pull his little brother in with him... and stared in horror when he realized it was empty._

 _He spun around, eyes wide. "Gray? Gray!" Nothing. No sign of his brother._

 _How did he lose him? When did he let go of Gray's hand without even noticing? He pounded his fist against the gnarly tree bark, yelling out his brother's name till he drowned out even the bomb blasts._

*****

Jack's eyes snap open, only long military training keeping him from yelling or otherwise drawing attention to himself. With an effort, he suppresses his panting, takes deep breaths and slows his racing heart. He glances at the Doctor and Rose, curled up together and still asleep, thank god. He did not wake them this time. The screaming was all in his head.

Jack quietly slips out of bed and pads to the door. He's shivering, and it's not because he's naked and barefoot. He opens the door just enough to slip through, and pulls it closed behind himself silently, with a last longing look at his sleeping lovers.

*****

The Doctor opens his eyes. Something's wrong. Rose is lying next to him, one leg across both of his and her face buried in his chest. But the place behind her is empty. He curses. It's too early for Jack to have got up simply because he's slept enough, and he'd hear him if the lad was in the en suite. There's only one thing that makes Jack slip out like this.

He gently squeezes Rose's shoulder. He'd like to just let her sleep, but they have a deal, and she'll chew his ear off if he breaks his word. Besides, this will be much easier with her help. "Rose?"

She mumbles and stirs. "No, Mum..."

The Doctor grimaces. Of all the people he does not want to be mistaken for... "Rose. Wake up."

Her eyes open and she blinks at him blearily.

"Jack slipped out."

"Damn." Rose sits up. "I hate the quiet ones."

The Doctor nods grimly. So much easier to take care of the lad when they wake him from a nightmare, when he goes straight from tossing and turning to clinging to them. Never fun, but it allows Jack to let it all out. If they catch him while he's still vulnerable, he's receptive to reassurances and pettings. The Doctor reaches over Rose to feel Jack's side of the bed. It's cool. Dammit. The lad will have clammed up by now.

Rose sits up and shakes her head to clear it. "Right then. You go get him. I'll take care of the rest."

"Right. Thanks." He gets up, pulls on his jeans, and heads for the door while Rose is still looking around for her pyjama bottoms. He has a pretty good idea where the lad will have gone. But he needs to stop by medbay first.

*****

Jab. Straight right. Left hook. Repeat.

Each time Jack's fists connect with the punching bag, his knuckles leave another set of small blood stains on the tan leather.

Jab. Left uppercut. Right hook.

He's panting, and sweat's pouring off him. His muscles are burning, and there's a tremor in his knees that he won't be able to ignore much longer.

Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Left hook.

He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes, repeating the combination over and over.

"Need to remember to get dark leather punch-bags in future. Gotta check if they come in rust..."

Jack whirls around, his body automatically snapping into a defensive stance. The Doctor's leaning in the doorway, only his raised eyebrow indicating anything less than perfect composure. He holds Jack's gaze steadily.

Jack takes a deep breath and lowers his arms. He feels his shoulders slump and his knees sag. "What do you want?"

The Doctor holds up a tube of antibiotic ointment and some tape. Jack sighs and sits on the bench. The Doctor joins him, pulling Jack's unresisting right hand into his lap. He carefully dabs away the worst of the blood with gauze before applying the ointment. Then he wraps Jack's knuckles with the padded tape, all without saying a word.

"You could've just used the skin regenerator, heal them up like new." Jack makes his tone caustic, but holds out his other hand unresistingly.

The Doctor shrugs. "Could have. An' you'd have been back here within an hour, bloodying 'em again."

Jack looks away, unable to deny the truth of the Doctor's words, but still too strung out on emotion and adrenaline to admit his lover's right.

The Doctor turns Jack's hand over and, with uncharacteristic gentleness, kisses his palm. "'S all right. Know a thing or two about needing the pain, me."

Jack whips his head around, startled by the openness. Every time the Doctor comes to find him after a nightmare, he expects a telling-off, or at the very least a lecture on taking proper care off himself. And every time, the Doctor surprises him.

The Doctor's eyes are shining with warmth. There's no pity in them, just pain and understanding. He smiles. "Coming?"

Jack can't take it. He doesn't deserve this, and the Doctor shouldn't be acting like everything's all right. "No!" He jumps up. "Who says I'm done here?"

The Doctor raises his hands. "Sorry. You go right ahead. I'll wait." He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms.

Jack is seething. He wants to yell at the Doctor, scream about arrogance and superiority complexes – but he knows damn well it's not his lover he's really angry at. He spins around and kicks the punching bag, so hard the old leather straps tear from the chain mounting and the bag comes crashing down, sliding across the smooth gym floor until it hits the water cooler with a thud, knocking it over and breaking the glass bottle into a thousand glittering pieces.

Jack stares for a moment, speechless. Then he turns around. The Doctor has his head cocked and is watching him, perfectly calm. He doesn't comment.

Jack swallows and lowers his head. "I'm done now," he says quietly.

He can hear a valiantly suppressed grin in the Doctor's voice. "Fantastic." The Time Lord gets up and wraps an arm around Jack's hips. "C'mon then."

He gently steers him towards the door. Jack lets himself be drawn along meekly, mentally sending apologies to the TARDIS for the mess he made. He feels a reassuring purr in response.

*****

Rose is arranging the last platter when the blokes come back. She takes one look at Jack's dejected frame and puts on her brightest smile. "You're just in time for the picnic!"

He looks up, guilty. Takes in the large tray of different snacks – and tea, of course – that she's arranged in the middle of their bed. "Rose, you really didn't have to..."

"Hush. We've been over this." She raises an eyebrow at his taped-up hands. "Figured you could use some energy."

He sits at the corner of the bed, almost shyly.

The Doctor nudges him towards the headboard with his knee before climbing in next to him. "Looks fantastic, Rose." He snatches a Jaffa cake and pops it into his mouth. "Though – mini pizzas? At three in the morning?"

She shrugs. "Remembered how much Jack liked them." Plus they come with a healthy dose of spinach, which contains iron, and she just knew the Doctor would bring him back bleeding. Yeah, she realizes the loss from a few split knuckles is probably negligible, but she can't help wanting to do anything that might make Jack feel better, even just a little. "Not like they're _that_ hard to make. Knew I'd be waiting for you blokes for a while, anyway."

Jack reaches for one of the small pizzas with a grateful smile. He looks at it doubtfully for a moment, but then bites off a piece and starts chewing determinedly. Rose smiles to herself. Nothing like a little guilt trip to get Jack to eat even when he doesn't feel like it. She starts munching some salt and vinegar crisps.

The Doctor takes a sip of his tea and his face contorts in disgust. "What is _that_?"

"Herbal. Dunno 'bout you, but I intend to go back to sleep tonight."

The Doctor scrunches his nose but takes another sip without complaint.

Jack's sitting between them, chewing his pizza and sipping his tea, not making eye contact.

Rose sighs. "Jack. It's _okay_." She hates that every time this happens, he ends up feeling bad about whatever he dreamed _and_ about them being up because of him. And that every time this happens, he seems completely shocked and overwhelmed that they'll take care of him rather than.... what does he imagine? That they'd yell at him for disturbing them? Or ignore him and go back to sleep?

She nudges Jack's leg gently. "We can just sleep in tomorrow. Right, Doctor?"

"Yep. Laze around in bed all day if we want." He wraps an arm around Jack and puts his chin on Jack's shoulder. "Maybe try a new trick or two?" He nips his earlobe playfully.

Jack chuckles, and some of the tension goes out of him. He lets himself sag against the Doctor. Rose grins and lies down, bedding her head on Jack's thigh. "I want more crisps!" she announces and opens her mouth, looking up at him expectantly.

Jack's smile widens and his eyes soften as he slowly feeds her crisps, using his thumb to softly wipe the crumbs off her chin.

*****

The Doctor watches Jack lovingly feeding Rose, who's beginning to blink her eyes tiredly. She'll be out soon.

What Rose doesn't know, and Jack doesn't know the Doctor knows, is that the relaxation is a front their lover's putting on for their benefit. Jack's right hand is resting behind the Doctor's back, so Jack thinks his lover doesn't notice him digging his knuckles roughly into the mattress every few seconds. But the Doctor can feel the slight shifts in weight and smell the small spikes of adrenaline.

He pretends not to notice, though. It's like he said earlier. He understands about needing the physical pain to keep the demons at bay.

He doesn't know what Jack's punishing himself for. But he's always this focused on his hands, especially the right one, after a nightmare. So probably something he physically did – or failed to do. The Doctor wonders, but he's not going to ask.

Rose wants to. They've talked about it. She's convinced that if Jack would only open up, tell them what demons are haunting him, he'd feel better.

But Rose is young. She's not a naïve little shop girl anymore, but while she's seen horrors, she's never yet had to be the one to commit them. Will never be, if he has anything to say about it.

Some things can't be fixed by talking. A nightmare and bloody knuckles every few weeks might be as good as things will ever get for Jack.

"Credit for your thoughts," Jack's voice interrupts his musings. He blinks and looks at his lovers. Rose is fast asleep on Jack's thigh now, and the lad's eyelids are drooping, too.

The Doctor smiles. "Not the kind you want to hear about."

Rose would pry now, but Jack just nods. "Can you get rid of this?" He gestures at the tray. "I'm a little tied up." He gently strokes Rose's fringe out of her face.

The Doctor nods and shifts carefully, giving Jack time to brace his weight. He picks up the tray and puts it on the desk. They can deal with it in the morning. Then he climbs back into bed.

"You're staying?" Jack raises an eyebrow. They both know they Doctor can do just fine on two hours of sleep.

He nods. "Yeah."

"You don't have to on my account."

"I know. Want to, though." Admitting that is a risky move. Jack's still brittle enough that he might take offense. The Doctor smiles ruefully. "Mother hen, me."

Jack chuckles. "Ain't that the truth." He starts shifting, trying to lie down without dislodging Rose. "A little help here?"

The Doctor nods, and carefully shifts Rose so she's still lying on Jack's thigh, but the lad can lie down sideways on their, thankfully wide, bed. The Doctor covers Rose with one blanket and pulls another up around Jack so he's mostly covered, but Rose's head is free. "This do?"

"Yeah." Jack smiles, but it's tense around the edges. And the Doctor can still smell little irregular spikes of adrenaline, and see Jack's hand shift under the blanket in time with them. He sighs and lies down on Jack's other side. "Give me your hand."

"Doctor..."

"Give it."

Jack obeys. The Doctor gently holds Jack's hand in his, the back resting against his palm. He entwines their fingers, curling his own into Jack's palm from behind. And squeezes.

There's a hiss of pain from Jack, and a surprised glance at the Doctor.

"Go to sleep, lad," he says mildly, keeping steady pressure on Jack's knuckles.

Jack kisses the corner of the Doctor's mouth. "Thank you."

"Sleep." His thumb strokes over Jack's, back and forth, while his palm maintains the pressure, hurting Jack as much as he needs, but no more.

*****

Jack rests his head on the Doctor's shoulder and closes his eyes. The pain in his knuckles is a sharp edge, cutting through the howling screams of his memories. He sighs gratefully.

He'll never forgive himself for Gray. Punishing the hand that let go of his brother's may be an empty gesture, but there's still some solace in it. Or at least distraction. Jack feels himself relax.

The Doctor told him earlier, in the gym, that he understood about needing the pain. Jack didn't believe him. But now, with the Doctor's hard palm pressing down on his bandage while his thumb strokes him tenderly, he feels more loved and understood than he ever thought possible.

And it burns.

Because he's not worth it, and he doesn't deserve it.

The pressure tightens, and a new spike of pain snaps him out of that train of thought.

"None of that now, lad," the Doctor chides. "Get some rest."

Jack smiles against the Doctor's shoulder. He knows his lover would never enter his mind without asking, but sometimes the way he reads his body language is just as spooky.

Jack still doesn't understand, may never understand, why the two most amazing people he's ever met think he's worth all this. But somewhere deep inside, underneath the pain and the self-hate and the insecurities he spends most of his waking life hiding – he thinks he might be beginning to believe them.

*****

It only takes a few minutes for Jack's breathing to become deep and regular. The Doctor waits a little longer, until he's sure he's asleep. He curls his hand to take the pressure off Jack's knuckles, but keeps stroking his thumb.

The Doctor settles in to watch his lovers sleep. To guard against the demons he wishes he could slay.

The nightmares will return. They all know that.

They'll face them together – as often as it takes, for as long as it takes. The Doctor knows that, and so does Rose.

And Jack will learn in time.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from one of my absolute favorite poems, [](http://www.eapoe.org/works/poems/ravena.htm)_The Raven_ by Edgar Allan Poe. I thought it was perfect for a hurt/comfort theme – as long as you ignore the rest of the poem. ;)


End file.
